


Tar Filled Lungs and Bloodless Hearts.

by gayblockz (lizandre)



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Tags May Be Added, Angst, Gen, Hurt/(Eventual) Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insane Wilbur Soot, It's been cold lately, Manburg Not Blown Up Yet, Mentions of canon typical violence, Pogtopia, Smoking, The Button, Wilbur Soot's Terrorristic Tendencies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandre/pseuds/gayblockz
Summary: Cigarettes are merely a lousy distraction that keep him from doing what needs to be done. Cigarettes are a futile attempt at keeping warm. Cigarettes are the reason Manburg is still standing.A story detailing Wilbur Soot's seven last cigarettes.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	1. Seven

Wilbur exhaled a puff of smoke and watched it mix with the cold night air until it whittled away, dissolving into the darkness. He wandered quite far from their base, far enough for the others to understand this as something other than a “smoke break”, but the man himself didn’t mind. His paths have been quite predictable, lately, his routes usually leading to the same place, a solitary room, in a place he wasn’t quite supposed to be in.

Six more cigarettes stashed away in a pack in his pocket. He took one more drag, the sight of orange emanating from the lit end being the only thing saving him from the merciless cold.

“Wilbur!”

The man heard a voice and a shuffling of trees from behind him but didn’t stop walking.

“Wilbur!” Tommy almost caught up with him, being out of breath from seemingly running all the way here.

“Hey, big man, what are you, erm, doing here?” the kid let out a nervous laugh, looking at Wilbur’s calm, unsettling smile. The man didn’t even glance at him.

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He knew that leaving Wilbur alone is dangerous, but he also knew that bringing the issue up directly wasn’t going to solve anything, and might actually make things worse. He had to address things tactfully, and the best thing that he could do was keep an eye on Wilbur and discreetly make sure he doesn’t have his insanity act out again. Talking to Wilbur lately felt like playing a game of Minesweeper, in all the possible interpretations of that comparison.

“Smoking,” the man said, absentmindedly.

Tommy was also absolutely not smarter than Wilbur. If there was anything Wilbur was acutely aware of, it was the goals and intentions of the people around him, and that included Tommy. If the boy was playing Minesweeper, the man sure as hell loved to move his bombs around.

“You shouldn’t smoke that much,” commented Tommy. “I think you have a problem.”

Wilbur let out a raspy laugh, only further convincing Tommy of his statement.

“You wouldn’t want me to stop smoking,” he said, inhaling more toxins. “Trust me.”

They walked together silent for the next few moments, the air being filled with unrequited tension and anxiety, as if only one of the two had any emotional investment in the situation, while the other was just casually strolling through the movements that have almost become his routine.

Once Manburg painted itself into their line of sight, Tommy realized where they were heading.

He put his hand on the arm of the taller man beside him, a gesture he hoped came off as casual, but in reality was the most painfully transparent clutch for control possible. He slightly sped up his walking, veering left at the same time, desperately trying to leave the god forsaken path to the place which gave him a terrifyingly empty feeling in his stomach. Wilbur didn’t seem to protest, at first, continuing to smoke his cigarette, which was now half the length it was when Tommy first caught up to him.

They walked a bit more, leaving the trajectory that Tommy feared so much, and he began relaxing, as his friend didn’t seem to be trying to turn back. Maybe he was really just having a night walk, going where his feet took him. Wow, Tommy sure did avert a crisis just now! Imagine if Wilbur accidentally wandered to Manburg, and his terroristic tendencies overcame him? That could’ve ended in disaster!

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” he responded eagerly, happy to finally have the ability to have a normal conversation.

“Where are you leading me?”

Tommy’s confidence deflated like a balloon. Well, maybe he is just wondering where they’re walking. Maybe he’ll lightheartedly tell Tommy off for getting them lost in the woods in the middle of the night. Maybe he’ll call him a stupid child while trying to figure out their way back to Pogtopia, laughing at his own incredibly creative insult. They’ll be able to have something normal again.

“I mean, nowhere in particular.”

“Oh, okay, ‘cause I wanted to visit somewhere.”

Tommy felt his stomach drop. That must’ve reflected on his face, because Wilbur smiled at him and added:

“You can come too, if you want.”

With that, he turned around and started walking, without waiting for Tommy, who was frozen in place, stuck with a decision. Wilbur took another drag of his cigarette, and the puff of smoke he let out blew right into Tommy’s face, leading him to have a coughing fit.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling the corners of his eyes water. He preferred to think it was from the smoke.

After a few more seconds of watching the tall figure walk farther and farther away, he finally ran after him.

***

They were going to the exact place Tommy was dreading. The hole in the mountain he never wanted to come back to. He was trailing slightly behind Wilbur, slowing down right before the entrance in futile hopes that they might never go in.

Wilbur let out one last trail of smoke and threw the cigarette butt on the floor, extinguishing it with the sole of his boot. He fished out a pack from the pocket of his coat and took out another cigarette, leaving five to remain.

“How many have you smoked today already?” Tommy asked, watching the man fiddle around with his lighter until a bright orange glow lit up his face, and he inhaled, putting away the lighter and the pack.

“Almost there,” he exhaled the words along with the smoke, ignoring the question.

He went into the room, and after several moments of hesitation, Tommy followed.

Tommy despised this. He was staring at the button on the wall, and the button was staring right back at him. It was smirking, condescendingly. “You’re just a kid,” it whispered. “He doesn’t take you seriously. There’s nothing you can do about any of this.”. The smell of nicotine filling and corroding at his lungs didn’t help the matters, only lowering his opinion of the place.

“You shouldn’t smoke inside, dipshit,” Tommy pinched his nose in an attempt to at least not feel the disgusting smell, looking at Wilbur, who just sat on the chair in the middle of the room with his cigarette, humming the tune of the so familiar anthem.

Tommy took a look around the room, since he was being ignored anyway. The TNT and the creepy signs with the lyrics still freaked him out, and the fact that it was the first time he saw it at night, with only the dim yellow light of a single torch illuminating the entirety of the small indent in the hill, added to the uneasiness of the place. It would’ve probably been less creepy if the thick air could be filled with a conversation instead of cigarette smoke, but with the almost hypnotic way Wilbur gaped at the button Tommy doubted that could be managed.

Wilbur seemed to be completely submerged into his own little world, lovingly humming the anthem, occasionally letting out and watching the smoke disperse through the air, and never facing away from that damned button. It was like there was a fifty-fifty pendulum swinging in his brain, wondering whether to press it or not, and Tommy feared any interference with that process could land him on an unfortunate side of the coin.

Tommy stayed placed firmly near the entrance, partially in order to not suffocate in the smoke filled space, and partially because he really didn’t want to see Wilbur’s face right now. He was too scared of seeing his face morph into a villainous smirk right before he smashed the button. He knew that just because he won’t see it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t happen, and that this attitude was silly and childish, but, to be fair, so was he.

Another puff of smoke added to the intoxicated air, but instead of being accompanied by a melodic hum a hectic series of coughs overtook the room, with Wilbur folding from his straight position in the chair.

“Wilbur!” Tommy reflexively jumped to his side, forgetting about his cautious attitudes.

He was met with a raised hand, signaling for him to wait as the man coughed out his lungs. The sound wasn’t pleasant.

“I’m okay,” Wilbur choked out, trying to clear his throat.

“I told you not to smoke inside, you prick,” Tommy sighed, but there was no bitterness or anger in his voice.

“This is probably a sign we should leave,” his voice cleared out more now, to the point where it was almost not disturbing.

He extinguished the leftover of his cigarette on the stone wall and threw it on the floor, where Tommy noticed a concerning amount of other cigarette butts, to the point where they littered the entirety of the space underneath the chair. How often does Wilbur smoke here?

Distracted by the trashed floor, Tommy didn’t notice Wilbur passing by him and walking off, not waiting for the child. After realizing, he immediately bolted, not wanting to be left alone in the room for any longer. Catching up to Wilbur, he noted the lack of cigarette in the man’s hands.

“Are you not going to smoke more?” he asked, feeling the tension release with the fresh night air clearing both their heads.

“No. I’m done with it. For today.”

Tommy felt his shoulders relax, even though he didn’t even realize they were tense in the first place.

“Okay. Let’s go back,” Tommy sighed, watching the tall man walk ahead of him.

Wilbur didn’t respond. His silhouette just kept on shrinking further and further into the distance.

***

Wilbur crashed onto his bed, letting out a couple of coughs after hitting his back a bit too hard. His lungs are sure not going to thank him, but, to be fair, he isn’t going to thank them either. He took out his pack again, looking at the five lonely cigarettes left in there.

He should stop. It only distracts him from what he needs to do.

The child was right, even if he didn’t mean it in the way Wilbur meant it. He glanced back at the ceiling and then back at the cigarettes.

Five.

That’s a good number.

After these five, he was going to stop. He mentally set himself that deadline, the ultimatum. A good deadline will ensure these five will be his last.

And Wilbur sure as hell loves his deadlines.


	2. Five

It’s been an entire day, and Tommy still couldn’t get the smell of tobacco out of his nostrils. Even the taste lingered in the back of his mouth, and coughing did nothing to help. With the remnants of the smoke still sitting in his lungs, the memories hang around as well. He sat on the cold stone floor of Pogtopia, contemplating the events he witnessed last night. Well, contemplating is a strong word – more like basking in them, drowning, even, unable to comprehend and piece them together, the persistent tight feeling in his chest nagging him on even more. It’s been very hard to not get overwhelmed by events lately.

It was hard to not get overwhelmed by Wilbur.

And as if sensing the thoughts about him, the Devil seemed to manifest. His presence was known by the sound of tripping and almost falling on the stairs, followed by a muffled curse. A series of footsteps faded out into the surface and above. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to do.

Tommy stood up with a sigh. He didn’t want to follow Wilbur. He wanted to pretend he saw nothing last night, that nothing was happening, that everything was fine. He didn’t want to find out more. But he wanted to leave Will’s volatility unsupervised even less, so he ascended the stairs and revealed himself to the night.

Catching up to Wilbur didn’t take as much effort this time, taking only a few long strides. They walked together in silence for a few brief moments, until Tommy spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I do know, actually.”

“Why did you ask then?”

Tommy didn’t answer.

“Do you do this every night?” he asked, after a pause.

“When you say it like that it sounds like a ritual,” Wilbur made a pause of his own, but when Tommy didn’t fill it, he realized he couldn’t run from the question. “…but, yes.”

“Do you smoke every night too?”

The man’s answer consisted of taking out his pack, taking a cigarette and lighting it in a few swift motions. Four cigarettes were placed back into his pocket as he took a drag, letting the smoke cover and engulf his face as he exhaled.

Tommy winced, fearing the smell getting imprinted into his brain for another day, but didn’t say anything.

Tommy didn’t have trouble talking to people, he certainly didn’t have trouble being confident while doing it, but talking to Wilbur when he’s like this felt… wrong, awkward, like he was forcing himself into an atmosphere that didn’t suit his biological needs, breathing air that will corrupt his lungs and suffocate him. He didn’t even know when talking to one of his closest friends became like dying, slowly and dreadfully.

Lost in these thoughts, Tommy unintentionally slowed down, and, to his surprise, Will noticed and stopped, turning around to look at the kid, who froze under the man’s gaze. A few tense moments passed before one of them said something.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Wilbur took a drag, and Tommy’s hopes lit up with the whittling end of the white paper. “I should drop the smoking, you’re right.”

“Would you listen to me if I told you you should stop going to that room every night?”

“No.”

Tommy’s stomach turned in a twist of an uneasy feeling mixed with cringing at oneself. He felt stupid for asking something so direct. His first reaction was to salvage the situation with more words.

“Well, you’re not very good at the whole dropping smoking shit, you have a whole cigarette stuck between your stupid teeth.”

At that Wilbur just rolled his eyes and continued walking. Tommy followed.

The leaves crunched under their feet as they walked, Tommy with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head tucked down, speeding ahead, catching himself to notice the taller man’s way slower pace and try to match it, only to go even faster after getting lost in his own thoughts again.

If he was being honest, he really just wanted to go through this weird routine as quickly as possible. Rush to the room, let Wilbur have his weird insanity moment, and then leave, finally crash into his bed and fall asleep to escape into a world where he didn’t have to worry about any of this shit. Sadly, he was yet again reminded that he was not the leader here, no matter how desperately he wanted to be.

When they reached the room, Tommy froze. Visuals from last night popped into his mind immediately, but worse than that, the smells overwhelmed his senses and filled his lungs with intangible smoke, suffocating him without giving the option to cough it out. The scent lay thick on his tongue, almost prompting a gag reflex, and yet his body was still paralyzed, unable to give any sort of response to all the feelings and sensations he was sinking in.

“Tommy?”

Wilbur’s cold voice snapped him back to reality. The man was putting out his cigarette on the stone wall.

“What?” Tommy tried to play it off.

“You froze,” Will pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he looked under his feet. The things he couldn’t see did not exist. “I’ll become a secondhand smoker, too, at this rate.”

If Tommy wasn’t preoccupied with evening out his breathing, he would’ve seen a flash of concern illuminate Wilbur’s face for a moment.

“You can stay outside,” he suggested, his voice considerably softer.

He could see the boy tense up at the prospect, but Will could also see the exhaustion in his eyes as the cogs in his brain began visibly turning. After weighing out his options, he seemed to give into his body’s pleas for rest, and sat down on the cold night ground, propping himself up against a nearest wall.

Wilbur turned back to the small room. He fished out another cig, leaving three to remain. He lit it up and inhaled, letting him get consumed by the toxins. He exhaled a puff of smoke and watched it mix with the cold night air until it whittled away, dissolving into the darkness. His gaze lowered to the entrance of the room, and the button placed directly in his sight. Taking a few strides forward and he swinged his legs over and onto the chair, where he sat in a comfortable position. A sense of deja vu struck him between his ribs and he sunk into it, letting himself get lost in this worn out routine.

He sat and smoked, enjoying the peculiarly pleasurable calmness the room filled him with. Maybe it was just the smoke. The mistake was easy to make, really, both as grey and dull as each other, both acting like a sedative to the raging thoughts boiling under his skull. The thoughts that frantically convulsed at the sight of the button, trying to ram a hole through the fragile bone of the scalp, desperately wanting to get out and just _press it_ , just get it over with, _self-destruct already_.

But the nicotine kept them at bay. It kept them tucked away, not strong enough to place even a crack into the white shell, so quiet they were almost invisible. He watched the smoke diffuse thickly into the air and then simmer, covering his vision in a hazy fog, making his eyes water slightly. The little tears forming in the corners felt nice, even if they were completely artificial. He shut his eyelids, forcing the liquid out, to stream down his cheek, the sensation relaxing him, even if for a few fake moments.

He hummed the anthem. With his eyes closed, he could pretend everything was fine. It was a nice evening in L’Manburg, he was just sitting down after a long day of messing around and doing nothing in particular with all his friends, and soon he’ll fall asleep and dream of safety and peace, perhaps sitting next to the water on the dewy grass. Tomorrow, when he wakes up, he’ll stroll through the bright green fields of his beloved country, chuckle lightly while passing Tubbo and Tommy, who will probably be messing around, perhaps planning out their next structure to build, maybe looking for the next poor innocent to fall victim to one of their pranks. Wilbur will go down to the docks, glancing at the flag preventing the sun from blinding him with its rays, and he will sit with Niki and they’ll talk about sweet nothingness, just enjoying each other’s company, enjoying the beautiful scenery, and then he’ll—

Cough. A violent cough, breaking free from his throat and trying to take his insides with it.

His time seemed to be up, the smoke filled up not only his lungs but also the air around him, banishing him from his little personal space, the last little piece of his former country where he could still feel safe and welcomed, if alone.

He dropped the cigarette bud on the floor and stomped on it, scoffing bitterly. The tear on his cheek didn’t feel nice anymore, so he wiped it off with his sleeve, probably getting his face dirty in the process. He didn’t care.

He ducked through the door and froze for a second. He wandered so far off into his thoughts he forgot about the child sitting prepped up against the cold stone.

Tommy looked more peaceful in his sleep than one could ever imagine with how loud his personality was when he was awake, his eyes closed and his arms crossed on his chest, yet his eyebrows still furrowed as if in slight distress. Wilbur couldn’t help the slight smile that slithered its way out. The kid deserved this break, really, he was often busy, finding a million of things to do during the day, and Will almost felt bad for the amount of stress he was putting the boy through with his antics.

There wasn’t need for guilt, though, Tommy really wouldn’t be this stressed if he just understood.

Wilbur ruffled the blond hair and gently shook his shoulder to wake the little gremlin up, looking down fondly. It took a few seconds but eventually Tommy shuddered awake, looking around alertly, and quickly calming himself back down upon seeing his friend.

“I wouldn’t recommend falling asleep here,” the taller man pointed out, straightening up. “It wouldn’t end well if someone who’s a, um, legal resident were to find you here.”

“I know, I didn’t— Well, I didn’t mean to— I mean—” Tommy scrambled up defensively, the tips of his ears going red. “I meant, I, um, I knew you were here too, and you wouldn’t just leave me here.”

A pause. Tommy looking up into the other’s eyes, unsure.

“Would you?”

Wilbur scoffed, and, without response, started walking back. Tommy wavered before catching up.

***

“You know, I had a really weird dream,” Tommy finally spoke up after a couple minutes of silent walking.

“Really, what about?” Will asked, absentmindedly.

“I had a dream that it was cold as shit. Like, really fucking cold, colder than normal,” Tommy continued talking, not noticing the way he piqued Wilbur’s interest. “And I was just sitting there, freezing, and, like, there was absolutely nothing around me, just a weird void, and all I knew was that I wanted to get warmer, but I had literally no way of doing it, so I just sat there, being cold, unsure of what to do. And then you woke me up. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yeah,” the man breathed out, unevenly. “Really weird.”

Tommy stopped. He watched as his friend took a few more steps before stopping too.

“Wilbur?”

He glanced back at the kid, in response. His eyes conveyed an impossible spiral of distress, paranoia and calmness.

“Would you actually leave me back there?”

Wilbur opened his mouth, furrowing his brows sarcastically, but Tommy interrupted.

“Genuinely. I want to know.”

Will stopped for a moment, then sighed, turning away for a few seconds. When he turned back his eyes seemed way more human, with a soft pain reflected in them.

“I wouldn’t,” he murmured.

It caught him by surprise that Tommy would even have to ask that genuinely. To be fair, it caught Tommy by surprise, too.

They continued walking, evening out their pace to stand next to each other. The silence pricked them both like a thousand pine needles, digging into their backs and getting stuck between the vertebrae, making sure to stick around for long after they got out of the forest.

In that same silence, they entered Pogtopia, and both went separate ways once descending down the ravine. Tommy slumped onto his bed, breathing out. He closed his eyes, in hopes of dreaming a better dream.

***

A full pack of cigarettes landed in Wilbur’s lap. He looked up, finding Techno standing in the doorway leading to his farm. His cape falling off of one shoulder, the place where he usually kept his sword or axe was occupied by a hoe, his hair was a bit messy and unkempt. He looked tired.

“Don’t leave your stuff laying around, okay?” There was a slight irritation in his voice. Wilbur should’ve known, Techno didn’t like it when others infringed on his personal space.

He snapped open the cigarette pack, only to discover it was full and untouched. Huh, he didn’t even remember the last time he’s seen a pack other than the one reliably sitting in his pocket. He must’ve left it in some random place a while ago. Twenty cigarettes, all beckoning him to lose himself for another ten days, new and unscathed, a fresh start.

He closed the pack, placing it next to him.

“Thanks, Techno,” they nodded at each other, and as the pink-haired brute left, Wilbur’s gaze returned to the pack laying on top of the chest.

“You said you’re going to drop it.”

He turned to the voice behind him to find Tommy standing atop the stairs, gazing down on him.

“I am. I’m not going to even touch this one.”

Tommy skeptically raised his brow, and Wilbur rolled his eyes, laughing lightheartedly.

“I’m not lying, Tommy, this pack is going to lie right here,” he patted the space next to the cigarettes. “And I’m not going to touch it, you can even check. There are twenty pieces there right now, and I’m not going to take even one out.”

The kid descended down the stairs and inspected the pack, double checking the number, and put it back down.

“Okay,” he said, looking in Wilbur’s eyes. “I trust you.”

He clearly didn’t.

Will shrugged, smiling. It didn’t matter if the child didn’t believe him, really. Who is he to command what Wilbur does? He can be disappointed, angry, threaten him all he wants, it still wouldn’t mean a thing to the taller, older, smarter man. It would not mean a single thing.

“I’m gonna go now,” Tommy muttered, going back up the stairs. “I have some things to do, getting gear and shit.”

“Good luck, Tommy,” Wilbur smiled at him again, waving him goodbye. “See you later!”

The blond froze, a distressed look on his face. It was ridiculous how much of an open book he was, so easy to see all his emotions spelled out all over him. Made him more fun to mess with. He looked back at Will before disappearing to the surface. They exchanged a look before turning away from each other.

Both of them knew they were going to see each other soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP posting this before shit goes sideways tonight :^) 
> 
> man, this was already basically an alternative ending, i hope this is interesting enough for u guys to stick around even after the smp goes south
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated !!!! thank u for all ur kind words on the previous chaper :) :) :) :) :)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments highly appreciated :) :) :)
> 
> i'll try updating this once a few days, at max a week.


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